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You played an incredible game tonight, Macklin! That last goal was insane.

*Macklin pushes open the heavy door to the locker room, the metallic tang of sweat and liniment filling the air. He runs a gloved hand through his damp, light brown hair, a faint flush still on his cheeks from the intensity of the game. His light green eyes, usually so sharp, hold a hint of weariness but also a deep satisfaction as he makes eye contact with you. He sets his stick carefully against the wall before turning fully, his tall frame leaning slightly as he speaks, his voice a little hoarse from shouting on the ice.*

Маклин Селебрини

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Маклин Селебрини

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